


As Good As He Gets

by Phoebe_Hunter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hair Pulling, Improper Use Of Wolfsbane, Knives, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Switching, Voyeurism, all the sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebe_Hunter/pseuds/Phoebe_Hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a terrible idea. But Chris had never been very good at saying no to Peter when Peter’s tongue was in Chris’ mouth and one of Peter’s hands was down Chris’ pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Good As He Gets

**Author's Note:**

> The working title of this piece was "Five Terrible Ideas Peter Hale Had and One Time It Was All Chris' Fault." It is basically all porn. Unashamed, dirty, hot porn. Well, I hope it's hot. The Petopher I've been writing lately has tended to be relatively dark and abstract, so this is the fun fic I needed to write to balance out all the angst. 
> 
> This is, without a doubt, the most graphic thing I have ever written, so comments/con-crit/kudos is appreciated even more than usual. It was also composed primarily in cafes, which led to a lot of paranoid tab-changing. :p
> 
> I think I've basically warned for everything. These are more smutty than kinky, but there are a few hints at some power play in addition to the things I've tagged. I'm not specific about their ages -- they're somewhere between 16 and 19 or so, so I haven't warned for underage. 
> 
> Oh, it belatedly occurred to me that mobile phones might not have been invented when Peter and Chris were teenagers. That unfortunate reality would have interfered with the phone sex, so I ignored it. 
> 
> My iPad has been doing odd formatting things when I transfer between One Note and A03, and some apostrophes seem to have dropped out. I hope I've found all of them, but if not I apologise. As always, I also apologise in advance for any crimes against spelling and grammar.
> 
> The title is a reference to the fact that Chris kind of got away from me in this fic, and I think he may have surprised both me and Peter on a couple of occasions. :p

It was a terrible idea. But Chris had never been very good at saying no to Peter when Peter’s tongue was in Chris’ mouth and one of Peter’s hands was down Chris’ pants. Interfering with Chris' evening runs was a favourite pastime of Peter's. He was usually contented with a few stolen kisses, but on this occasion…

Chris grabbed Peter's wrist and broke the kiss. "No, Peter."

“Come on, Christopher.” Peter’s lips brushed the side of Chris’ throat, Peter’s tongue darting out to catch a drop of sweat.

Chris took a deep breath and ducked his head, avoiding Peter's kiss. “We’re not that far from the trails.” Chris’s voice cracked as Peter’s fingers curled around Chris’ cock. 

Peter’s teeth caught Chris’ earlobe, the sting soothed almost immediately by Peter’s tongue. “We’ll just have to be very, very quiet,” he murmured against Chris’ ear. “Do you think you can manage that, Christopher?”

Chris shivered. “I'm not the one who has trouble keeping quiet."

Peter grinned, his free hand sliding under Chris’ singlet. “Is that a challenge?”

This time Chris let Peter kiss him, burying his hands in Peter's hair and nipping at Peter's bottom lip. Peter hummed in satisfaction, one of his thighs pressing between Chris' legs. The kiss deepened, Peter's tongue flicking against the seam of Chris' lips, and Chris' breath hitched as Peter circled a nail around one of Chris nipples.

"I still think this is a terrible idea," Chris said.

Peter's hands ran down Chris' back and Chris wrapped his legs around Peter's waist as Peter lifted him, pressing him back against the tree. A slick finger slid between the cheeks of Chris' ass and Chris had the presence of mind to wonder, for a moment, how Peter had managed that.

"You think too much," Peter murmured, his mouth fastening on Chris' pulse point.

Several minutes later Chris wasn’t thinking very much at all. He twisted his hips, the bark rough against his back, as Peter's fingers slipped free. Peter caught Chris' wrists in one hand, pinning them above Chris' head.

Chris arched his back as Peter's cock teased his entrance. "Peter," he growled.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stop?" Peter asked, voice rough with lust and laughter. He didn't give Chris a chance to reply; just thrust upwards in one fluid movement. Chris exhaled shakily as Peter braced himself against the tree with his free hand. Peter's mouth found Chris' again as Peter began to move.

Chris twisted his wrists, trying to break Peter's grip, but Peter refused to let go."Peter," Chris gasped, "I need…"

Peter's eyes dropped to Chris' cock, twitching against his belly, and the corners of his mouth twitched up into the sort of smirk that always made Chris want to hit him. "Not yet you don't."

Chris threw his head back, bearing the side of his throat to Peter's teeth, and he didn't miss Peter's low growl of approval.

Peter stilled. "Someone's coming up the trail." He kept Chris pinned against the tree, hands still on Chris wrists. "Your sister."

"Shit," Chris hissed. He tried to wriggle free but Peter held him fast.

Peter rolled his hips, agonisingly slowly, and Chris sank his teeth into the side of his mouth to keep himself from moaning.

"Peter, let me down," Chris snapped.

"She won't catch us if we stay quiet," Peter said. There was a raw heat in his eyes that sparked Chris' own arousal.

Peter pulled back and pressed into Chris again, pushing him harder against the tree, and Chris' eyes flickered closed. It was a totally, absolutely, fatally bad idea…

Chris could hear Kate's light footfalls on the path. They came closer as Peter fucked him slowly, his eyes never leaving Chris' face. The fear of being caught was very real, stopping Chris' breath in his throat, but somehow it only made him want Peter more, ratcheted the pleasure up almost to the point of pain.

From the thud of her shoes, Kate had reached the point of the trail closest to them. Peter reached between them, closing his hand over Chris' cock, and Chris bit down hard on Peter's shoulder to keep himself from shouting as he shuddered in Peter's arms.

Peter's breath caught, his hips jerking, and he breathed Chris' name when he came.

Kate's footsteps faded into the distance as Chris held on to Peter's shoulders, trying to regain his equilibrium. "That," Chris said, once his breathing was steady again, "is not something we are ever doing again."

Peter just smiled.

-

Peter stilled, tasting the air. He knew Chris was close, but the hunter could move almost as silently as a wolf through the forest. Peter dug his bare toes into the damp earth. It was a beautiful spring night, the full moon heavy and swollen overhead. A rabbit scuttled through the underbrush and he resisted the urge to pounce on it, to sate some of the hunger simmering within him with hot, fresh blood.

He had other quarry in mind.

He slipped between the trees, avoiding one of Chris' traps. He could hear the steady rhythm of Chris' heartbeat, almost taste the salty tang of Chris' sweat. It was a dangerous game to play, but the wolf in him didn't care.

The shadows resolved themselves into Chris' outline. He was standing beside a huge oak, his bow by his side, holding himself utterly still. Peter heard the snick of his knives sliding free, as loud as a gunshot in the dark silence of the forest.

Chris spun to meet Peter as Peter sprang forward. Peter twisted out of the way of the knife as Chris allowed Peter's momentum to bear them backwards. Peter hit the ground first and they rolled down the slope in a tumble of limbs and leaves.

Peter landed on top, his elbows on either side of Chris' body, but one of Chris' knives was a line of ice against his throat, the other nicking the soft skin of his stomach.

The pressure of the knives vanished. "I could have killed you, you _idiot_ ," Chris hissed.

Peter could hear the rhythm of Chris' heart beginning to steady as Chris' body recognised he wasn't in danger. Peter raised his head and dragged his tongue up the side of Chris' throat, tasting the hot sweetness of adrenaline, and Chris jerked his head back. "You could have tried," Peter murmured. He didn't bother trying to hide the bulge of his arousal.

"Get off me, Peter," Chris said. "Gerard heard there as a rogue wolf in the forest and…"

Peter cut him off. "Me."

"What?"

"The tipoff was from me."

"You lured me out here deliberately?" Chris pressed his hands to Peter's shoulders and shoved. Peter rocked back on his heels and Chris sat up, sheathing his knives.

"Yes."

"Why?" Chris sounded more curious than angry.

"Maybe I wanted to be hunted." Peter grinned, catching Chris' wrists. He raised one of Chris' hands to his mouth and dragged his tongue over the leather of Chris' handguard.

"I could have put an arrow through your throat or a knife in your eye." Chris hadn't pulled his hand away. He was watching Peter with an intensity that made Peter wonder whether Chris needed this as much as he did. There'd been tension in Chris all year, a set to his shoulders, a spark of anger in his eyes. Peter needed to run, needed to chase, needed to hunt. It hadn't occurred to him that Chris might need it as well.

"I'm bored, Christopher," Peter said, releasing Chris' wrist. "And so are you."

Chris didn't deny it. One of his hands settled on Peter's shoulder, his thumb pressed to Peter's pulse-point. "Who's hunting who?"

"We're hunting one another." Peter shifted forward and pressed his mouth to Chris', nipping at Chris' lower lip. The kiss deepened. Chris' hand slid up to cup Peter's cheek and Peter let himself breathe in the beat of Chris' heart and the pulse of Chris' blood. Chris kissed him with a little more bite than usual, his fingers curving so his nails bit into Peter's shoulder and collarbone.

It was Chris who broke the kiss, his hand sliding up to tangle in Peter's hair as his mouth found the column of Peter's throat. Peter growled as Chris bit down, hard enough to hurt.

Chris pulled away and glanced up at the moon.

"Worried I'll lose control, Christopher?" Peter traced a claw up Chris' bicep.

"Not particularly." Chris rolled to his feet. "Are you?"

Chris won, in the end, one of his knives at Peter's throat again while the other sliced through the waistband of Peter's jeans. Chris' breath was coming hard, and Peter could taste his desire like bloodlust in the air between them. Chris kissed him, rougher than usual, and when Peter raked his claws down Chris' back, shredding Chris' t-shirt, Chris only pressed closer. They hit the ground together, half-grappling on the forest floor. The coppery tang of Chris' blood mingled with the earthy sweetness of the fallen leaves.

Peter's fingers dug into Chris' hips, hard enough to bruise. Chris' hand tightened in Peter's hair, pulling Peter's head back to bare his throat, and Peter felt his eyes flash golden.

"You've never liked losing," Chris murmured. There was something almost fey about him, the moonlight threading silver through his blonde hair. Blood trickled down his cheek and his tongue darted out to catch it. He lowered his mouth to Peter's, lips stained crimson, and Peter rolled his hips as their mouths met, one hand curving around the back of Chris' neck.

They lay sprawled together on the forest floor afterwards, bruised and bloodied and filthy. Peter traced lazy circles on Chris' bare chest with his nails. "I don't mind losing to you, Christopher," Peter said. The wolf in him was quiet, sated. "

You could just _ask_ next time," Chris said.

"You'd tell me it was a terrible idea."

-

“Maybe I should sneak out to join you.” Peter said.

Chris stretched out on his sleeping bag, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, the phone pressed to his ear. His ribs ached and there was a bruise on his thigh the size of his palm. Gerard's hunting trips were never particularly pleasant, but Chris would have happily murdered several people for a warm shower and a decent meal. “That might be the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think it has its appeal.” Peter’s voice had roughened. “I could fuck you right there,” Peter murmured. “Maybe with a hand over your mouth, to make sure you didn’t cry out.”

Chris choked on air.

He could almost hear Peter’s grin when Peter spoke again. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t like to have my fingers in your mouth."

Chris shifted, his jeans much less comfortable than they had been only moments before. "Peter, now is really not…"

Peter ignored him. "I could fuck you from behind if you liked, one hand on your cock and the other keeping you quiet."   

Chris had a hand on his dick before he could stop himself. He palmed himself through his jeans, and maybe it was his catch of breath that told Peter what he was doing, or maybe Peter just knew him too well.

“Mmm,” Peter said. “That’s right. Should I tell you what I'd do to you if I were there?"

Chris didn’t respond.

Peter chuckled. "Or maybe I should start with 'what are you wearing?'"

"Maybe you should hang up the phone and let me get some sleep. You do realise Gerard is in the next tent."

"I just showered," Peter said. "So I'm not wearing anything."

And Chris' brain was telling him to hang up on Peter before things got out of hand, but Chris' dick had something else entirely in mind. He could imagine Peter, skin flushed from the heat of the water, hair damp and tousled, sprawled back on his bed with the phone in one hand.

"Do you have lube?" Peter asked.

That cut through the haze of arousal. "No," Chris said. "Why the hell would I have lube?"

"Is there anything else there?"

"Nothing I'm going to put up my ass, Peter."

Peter was smart enough not to remark on the concession. "No need to get cranky," he said. "I'm sure we can make do."

"I'm sure I should…"

Peter cut him off. "I've never rimmed you, you know." Peter's voice had dropped to a purr. "I've never rimmed anyone, but I might make an exception for you. Would you like that, Christopher?"

Chris shuddered. He wasn't thinking about hanging up anymore, wasn't thinking about anything other than how to keep quiet enough not to attract any attention.

"If I was there I'd rim you until you fucking cried." Peter's voice was hypnotic. "Until it got so good it hurt."

" _Fuck_ ," Chris breathed into the phone. His fist closed over his cock and he stroked himself roughly, the friction verging on uncomfortable. He heard Peter shift on the bed over the phone and imagined Peter untying the towel around his waist and wrapping a hand around his cock. Peter was utterly shameless in pleasure. He'd be stroking himself, head thrown back and his lips parted, eyes dark with need.

Chris could feel the pressure building in his stomach and the base of his spine. He arched his back, toes curling.

"Slowly, Christopher," Peter said. "This isn't going to be quick."

It _needed_ to be quick, needed to be over before Gerard heard something or one of the other hunters decided to check in. But Chris slowed his strokes anyway, shoving his jeans down over his hips to free his dick properly.

"I wouldn't let you come though," Peter's voice was a little unsteady. "I'd make you wait for that. And I can't decide whether I should fuck you or let you fuck me. Which would you prefer?"

"Mother _fucker_ ," Chris breathed into the phone. He could hear the amusement in Peter's voice.

"Do you want to know what I'm doing, Christopher? You're on speaker, you know. I needed both hands free."

Chris couldn't stifle a groan.

"My fingers don’t feel as good as your cock would."

Chris bit his bottom lip hard to keep himself from crying out.

"You're not going to come until I tell you to, Christopher," Peter said. Peter moaned into the phone and Chris had no doubt that he was doing it deliberately, that every catch of breath and every whimper was calculated to drive Chris absolutely insane. "Tell me what you want," Peter said, and Chris could hear the smirk in his voice.

There was really only so much Chris would tolerate. If he let Peter wreck him over the phone he was _never_ going to hear the end of it. "How about you?" he said, keeping his voice as soft as he could. "Do you want me to fuck you?" He was distantly conscious that he was probably going to very embarrassed once rational thought returned. "If you were here, Peter, I'd fuck you raw. Maybe I'd blow you first, get my fingers in your ass and give it to you until you begged me for it."

Peter appeared to have been surprised into silence and Chris took advantage of the opportunity. "Maybe I'd rim you until _you_ cried, Peter. Or maybe, if you said please, I'd take mercy on you and fuck you hard and slow, just like you like it, and we'd have to fucking gag you to keep you quiet."

" _Chris_ ," Peter said, voice breaking.

"I think I could make you come without touching your dick, Peter." Chris barely recognised his own voice. "And I think you'd like it if I did. If I pulled your hands behind your back and held them there until you thought you couldn't take it anymore. Would you come for me like that?"

Peter gasped and Chris didn't need to be there to know just how his hips were bucking off the bed, just how his teeth would catch his bottom lip and his eyes would flutter closed.

Chris dropped the phone and bit down on the side of his hand as pleasure punched through him. He let his head fall back against the pillow as he stroked himself through the aftershocks.

He rolled over, his abused ribs protesting, and retrieved the phone. "Peter?"

"Mmm." Peter sounded extremely smug. "I knew you had it in you."

Chris could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Are you blushing, Christopher?"

"No."

"Hurry back," Peter said, laughter in his voice. "I miss you."

-

“This is a terrible idea,” Chris said.

Peter just smiled. He was lying back on Chris' bed, shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips.

"The only reason I’m participating is because I know that if I didn’t you’d just do it by yourself and you’d probably end up dead.”

Chris handed the cigarette to Peter. The acrid smell of wolfsbane filled the room as Peter took a long drag, wincing at the taste. Chris lit his own cigarette and they smoked in silence for a little while.

Peter stubbed out the cigarette in the ash tray beside the bed and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Are you all right?" Chris asked.

Peter hesitated before answering. "I feel…strange."

"It's probably the poison you insisted on inhaling." And no, Chris hadn't gotten over the fact it was a terrible idea.

“Hit me,” Peter said.

“What?”

“Hit me.”

“No.”

Peter took a swing and Chris reacted on instinct. He ducked the blow and sent his own fist straight for Peter’s jaw. He managed to pull the punch before it made contact and Peter's fingers caught his wrist a few seconds too late. Peter’s eyes were very wide. He moistened his lips. “So this is what it’s like."

Chris lowered his hand, letting his fingers settle on Peter’s shoulder. “What what’s like?”

“Being human. Being vulnerable.” 

“Being human doesn’t mean being vulnerable.”

“But I am,” Peter said.

His voice was soft, and there was a note in it that Chris had never heard before. “I don’t have your training.” Peter lunged for Chris, propelling him backwards.

Chris landed hard on his back, his hands going to Peter's wrists. He got a thigh between Peter's legs and flipped them. He'd tried the move on Peter before, never successfully. This time Peter's breath whooshed out of him and Chris pinned Peter's wrists above Peter's head with one hand, his other forearm resting against Peter's throat. "Stop fucking around," Chris snapped.

Peter squirmed and Chris held him fast. It was...strange. He was so used to knowing that Peter always had the upper hand, was always going to be stronger, always going to be faster. He didn't want the idea to turn him on, didn't want to harden at the thought of Peter's vulnerability. He closed his eyes, willing his breathing to steady.

"You like it," Peter observed.

Chris opened his eyes.

Peter's smile was wicked, the uncertainty gone from his face. Peter's tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "Interesting."

Chris wasn't eager to pursue that line of inquiry. He ducked his head and flicked his tongue against one of Peter's nipples. Peter sighed. He was half-hard, his cock tenting the front of his jeans, and Chris let the hand he'd had at Peter's throat slide to the bulge, his nails leaving pink tracks down Peter's chest. 

Peter shivered. "Maybe you should take my mind off my pain, Christopher," Peter suggested, voice rough.

Chris raised his head and licked his lips. Peter's eyes darkened.

"Hold onto the headboard," Chris said.

Peter raised one eyebrow but obeyed, clasping his hands around one of the vertical slats.

Chris kissed a hot path down Peter's chest, mouth following the scratches, and set his teeth against the jut of Peter's hipbone. He nipped sharply and Peter moaned. Chris' fingers parted the front of Peter's jeans and he mouthed Peter's cock through the fabric of his briefs, tasting the muskiness of Peter's skin.

Peter's breath caught. "Tease," he murmured.

Chris allowed himself a smile. He pushed Peter's jeans and underwear down over his hips in one motion and swallowed him down. Peter's hips arched off the bed and Chris pinned them down, his fingers digging bruises into Peter's skin. He pulled back, swirling his tongue around the head of Peter's cock, and the noise Peter made was broken and gorgeous and a little bit wrecked.

By the time Chris pulled away again there was sweat trickling down Peter's face and he had his eyes closed, his head tilted back and his teeth set against his lower lip. Chris ran a gentle hand down Peter's thigh and Peter opened his eyes.

"Jeans off," Chris ordered. Peter nearly tripped over his feet in his haste, his clumsiness in sharp contrast to his usual lazy languor, and Chris slipped out of his tshirt and track pants as well. He pushed Peter back onto the bed but Peter rolled away and came to his hands and knees, looking back at Chris over his shoulder.

"Like this," Peter said, and Chris knew that Peter would be able to smell the sudden surge of his arousal.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Don't ask stupid questions, Christopher."

He sounded less smug though, once Chris had three fingers inside him. And less smug again when Chris replaced his fingers with his tongue. Peter kept up a litany of obscenity -- a mixture of _fuckyesChrispleasefuck_ \-- until Chris rose to his knees and pulled Peter back onto his cock. Peter's fingers dug tracks into the sheets as Chris fucked him, his fingers finding the bruises on Peter's hip and settling there again. When Peter reached down to touch himself Chris caught his wrist and pinned it back to the bed, pressing forward so his chest was flush against Peter's back.

"No, Peter," Chris said against Peter's ear. "Just like this."

Peter came untouched, Chris' lips pressed to the nape of Peter's neck and Chris' name on Peter's lips.

-

Peter liked sucking Chris' cock. Chris was always so controlled, always so poised. It felt good to take him apart, to hold him on the cusp of pleasure and keep him there, trembling and needy, until he unwound enough to breathe _please_ or _yes_ or sometimes just _Peter_. That wasn't the object of this particular exercise, though, and Peter wasn't surprised when Chris tugged at his hair in warning.

Peter chose that moment to drag his tongue up the underside of Chris' cock and Chris' grip tightened spasmodically. What would have been a gentle tug turned into a sharp jerk. Nobody was more surprised than Peter when pleasure shot through him, settling low and hot in his stomach, and he actually _whined_ , cutting off Chris' apology, his fangs lengthening.

Chris froze. "What was that?"

"Nothing." It wasn't shyness or shame that made Peter hesitate, just that his response had been…unexpected. He hadn't lost control of his shift in years.

"Really?" Chris buried his hands in Peter's hair again and pulled, slowly increasing the pressure.

Peter couldn't prevent his eyes from flashing to gold.

Chris released his grip and ran gentle fingers through Peter's hair. "Interesting," he said, in an excellent imitation of Peter's drawl. One of Chris' hands curved around the base of Peter's skull and he tugged. Peter followed the pressure up, his leg sliding between Chris' thighs as they ended up chest to chest, Peter's arms braced on either side of Chris' shoulders. Chris' lips found the side of Peter's throat and he pressed a gentle line of kisses down to Peter's collarbone, then to his jawline, dragging his tongue up Peter's jugular. Peter tipped his head so their lips met and Chris kept the kiss soft, teasing the seam of Peter's lips with his tongue. Peter opened his mouth into the kiss, tasting Chris' mouth.

The tightening of Chris' grip on Peter's hair was not unexpected, but Peter found himself grinding down anyway, choking back a moan. Chris rolled them over, not breaking the kiss. Their cocks slid together, Chris' still wet with spit, and Chris' hand closed around both of them. He stroked them roughly, his other hand still buried in Peter's hair, his thumb rubbing gentle circles behind Peter ear.

Peter hummed in annoyance when the pressure of Chris's hand vanished. It returned almost immediately, Chris' hand slick with lube. He stroked them once, twice, then his fingers slid down to trace the crack of Peter's ass.

"I have to say, Christopher, your technique has improved _immeasurably_ over time." Peter's voice cracked on the last word as Chris slid two fingers inside him. He was still slick; they'd fucked in the car on the way to Chris' place, Peter on Chris' lap in the passenger seat, and Chris had nearly begged for it as Peter had ridden him with a delicious slowness that had driven them both to the edge.

The hard press of Chris' cock replaced his fingers and Peter tilted his hips up as Chris slid into him. They both hissed in pleasure as Chris pulled back and thrust in again.The next time, Chris pulled gently on his handful of Peter's hair as he surged forward, and Peter nearly cried out. He twisted his hips, searching for something more, and Chris gave it to him, his free hand hooking behind one of Peter's knees and pushing his leg so that the next thrust buried him deeper in Peter's body.

Chris fucked Peter slowly, each thrust augmented by a twist of the hand in Peter's hair. Peter locked his legs around Chris' waist and their lips met in a hard, messy kiss.

Peter whimpered into Chris' mouth and Chris pulled back, stroking Peter's cheek. "Tell me if you want me to stop," Chris said.

"If you fucking stop, Christopher, I will rip your arms off," Peter gasped.

Chris laughed at him then, pressing forward and finding a tempo that had them both gasping. Sweat trickled down Chris' throat and Peter raised his head to lick it of Chris' chest, straining agains the pressure on his hair.

"You look so fucking good," Chris whispered. "Fuck, Peter you have no idea."

The next time Chris pulled Peter's hair Peter jerked his head against it, and the surge of need made him almost giddy. He clenched down around Chris' cock and it was Chris' term to groan, low and rough. Chris fucked him harder, the pace as relentless as the hand in Peter's hair.

Peter could feel the pressure building in his stomach and the base of his spine and he bucked his hips into Chris' thrusts, tightening his legs around Chris' waist. "Come _on_ , Christopher," he snarled. " _Harder_."

Chris slammed his hips forward as one hand closed around Peter's cock and the other locked in Peter's hair and wrenched his head back.

Peter came so hard he blacked out.

-

"This is a terrible idea."

"You've said that before." Peter slipped through the open window. "We can't leave Beacon Hills having never fucked in the locker room."

"We won't leave Beacon Hills at all if we both get arrested for breaking and entering." Chris landed lightly, and Peter tossed him the basketball.

"Who's going to catch us?"

They shot a few hoops, dodging and weaving down the basketball court until Chris was breathing hard and Peter's shirt was clinging to his back. It was Peter who grabbed Chris' hand and tugged him in the direction of the locker room. It smelt just how Chris remembered.

Peter wrinkled his nose. "Shall we hit the showers?" he asked, shrugging out of his tshirt.

Chris started on his own buttons, toeing off his boots. There was a hiss as Peter flicked the water on. Chris joined him under the shower, rolling his shoulders to shake off some of his stiffness.

"I watched you once," Peter admitted. "You thought you were alone."

"Watched me do what exactly?" The water was almost too hot, steam billowing up around them.

"What do you think?"

Chris slid one hand down to grasp his hardening cock. "This?" Chris blinked water out of his eyes. Peter was looking at him through hooded eyes, his hair plastered to his forehead.

"Yes," Peter murmured. "Like that."

Chris stroked himself, stepping back so he could lean against the wall. He tipped his head back, letting hot water trickle down his torso. Peter made no move towards him.

"A little faster," Peter said, and Chris obeyed. "You closed your eyes, with your head tipped back just like that, and part of me wanted to rip your throat out."

Chris' mouth curved into a lazy smile and he let his eyes flicker shut. "And the other part?"

"The other part wanted to pin you up against the wall and fuck you until you were screaming," Peter said. He sounded closer, his voice low and rough with desire. "You weren't worried about being caught," Peter continued. "You thought everyone was gone." Chris could feel Peter in front of him, but Peter made no move to touch him. "I couldn't see you properly," Peter said, "but I knew from the way you were breathing what you were doing."

Chris kept one hand on his dick, stroking slowly, while the other parted the cheeks of his ass. He teased himself with one finger, trying to keep his breathing even. There was a soft sound, and then Peter's tongue brushed Chris' cock, sliding along the side of Chris' hand.

Chris opened his eyes. Peter was on his knees, water running in rivulets down his back. Chris set one hand on Peter's shoulder as Peter took Chris in his mouth, his hands sliding around to cup Chris' ass. Chris lost himself in the heat of the water, the slick pressure of Peter's mouth, the press of his own fingers in his ass, until Peter pulled away, pressing a kiss to Chris' thigh, and rose to his feet.

Peter pulled their hips together, his mouth closing over Chris, and Chris could taste himself on Peter's tongue. He let his hands explore Peter's back, mapping every inch of the body he knew as well as his own. Peter's hands were on either side of Chris' face, his mouth hot and insistent. Their cocks brushed and Chris wasn't sure if it was he or Peter who groaned.

Peter turned him, one hand ghosting down Chris' spine, and Chris braced his hands against the wall as Peter's fingers slid inside him. Peter kissed the side of Chris' throat as he stroked Chris, curving his fingers so sparks of pleasure uncoiled through Chris' veins.

"Peter," Chris said, and he didn't need to say anything else -- the hardness of Peter's arousal replaced his fingers and Peter pushed forward. Chris braced himself against the wall as Peter's hands closed on his hips, Peter's lips brushing Chris' earlobe. It was slow and wet and perfect, and when Chris reached down to touch himself Peter's hand closed over Chris, and Chris spilled himself over their fingers as Peter shuddered to completion. 

They ended up on the ground, water still pouring around them, their legs entangled and Chris' head resting on Peter's chest.

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"Just for the record, I knew you were watching."

-

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
